Tomorrow May Not Be
by pinkpanther0987
Summary: When Harry suddenly leaves during his last year, he leaves a heartbroken and confused Hermione behind. Years later she meets a man named James who bears a striking resemblence to Harry. But what is James' real secret? HHR. And sorry my summaries suck.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this first chapter is just filler. So it's going to be _le boring_. Sorry, but it's just vital information. **

**Chapter One-**

"Hermione! Hermione!"

Hermione ignored the voice calling her as she anxiously stared into the mirror, fastening her earrings on with a flick of her wand.

"Hermione! Oh bloody hell—Ginny, would you go get her?"

Hermione heard a pair of feet stomping up the stairs and flinging the door open. She turned to see Ginny, looking like a doll in her dark violet dress, staring at her.

"I never thought _you'd_ be the one taking time to get ready," Ginny said, an amused smile flickering over her face.

"I'm done," Hermione said, glancing at herself one last time before standing up. "Sorry, I couldn't find my earrings."

She paused as Ginny surveyed her, her eyes skimming over Hermione.

"Wow," she said at last, her eyes meeting Hermione's, "Harry's going to be blown off his feet."

Hermione blushed. She and Harry had been going out for one solid year.

Now, in their last week of their last year, Harry had finally defeated Voldemort. There was obviously a school ball, in honor of him, which every student of Hogwarts was to attend.

Looping her arms with Ginny, they both made their way down to the Common Room. It was nearly deserted with the exception of Ron, who had his feet looped over the edge of an armchair. He jumped up once he noticed them.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, "Do you know how long I've been waiting! Everyone's already left!" He gestured to the empty Common Room.

"Well, I'm not the last one out," Hermione said defensively, "Harry's still not here yet."

"Yes I am," a voice came from behind them. Hermione spun around to see Harry standing against the exit hole. He smiled his trademark lopsided small and walked over to plant a small kiss on her cheek.

"You look nice," he said, taking her hand.

They made their way down to the Grand Hall, where the ball was to take place. Ron continued to bicker about his dress robes, which he had clearly stated that he wished to never wear again until Ginny threatened to silence him with her wand.

They entered the Grand Hall, each one inhaling deeply at the decorated room.

"Even after 7 years, this room still amazes me," Hermione said, walking into it and pulling Harry beside her.

They sat down at a table near Lavender, Seamus, and Neville. Ginny, spotting Colin, her date, blushed and excused herself to a different table.

As usual Ron began to argue with Seamus and Harry about Quidditch teams while Neville sat alongside, smiling at key points. Lavender drew Hermione into conversation about an article she had read in _Witch Weekly_.

After a few moments when everyone was getting up to begin dancing, Hermione eyed Harry.

His face was pale and clammy, and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. His hand slowly lifted up to his forehead, and then he dropped it down onto the table again.

"Harry," she said quickly, gripping his hand, "Are you all right?"

He opened his eyes and managed a weak smile at her. "Yeah, I'm good."

Hermione bit her lip and surveyed him. "You don't look good. Shall I take you to the hospital wing?"

"I'll go," Harry said, standing up slowly. Hermione made a motion to stand up, but he pushed her back down. "Stay—I won't be long."

Hermione continued to peer anxiously as Harry made his way out of the Great Hall.

"Don't worry," she heard Ron's voice come from across the round table, "It's happened before. Madame Promphrey says it's because the Final Battle robbed him of most of his strength. He just needs time to get over it."

"It's happened _before_?" Hermione exclaimed, turning to glare at Ron, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ron shrugged sheepishly. "Harry said not to. He didn't want to worry you."

Hermione crossed her hands across her face and leaned back into her chair. "I wouldn't…I'd try and…I still should've known!"

Ron smiled. "Don't worry, he'll be back soon."

He didn't come back.

Hermione waited at the table, her fingers twisting around each other as the ball dragged on. Finally—the next morning, when the ball finally ended, she sighed and placed her head into her hands.

"He didn't come back?"

Hermione looked up to see Ron gazing at her. She shook her head.

Ron offered her his hand and she took it, standing up. "Let's check the Hospital Wing."

They made their way quickly down to the Hospital Wing, pushing open the door, revealing Madame Promphrey tending to a first year.

"Madame Promphrey," Hermione said quickly, walking up to the nurse, "Is Harry here?"

"Harry?" she asked, looking up at Hermione, "No. Why?"

Hermione's face paled and she looked over at Ron.

"Well he came last night," Ron said quickly, "And he never came back to the ball, so—"

"Oh," Madame Promphrey's face softened, "Well, he was awful tired dear. He probably went straight to bed."

Hermione relaxed. "Oh. Of course—we'll go check."

"See," Ron said, after they had left and were on their way to the Common Room, "There's no need to worry so much."

He said the password to the Fat Lady, who swung open and let them enter. The Common Room was once again deserted—everyone was sleeping due to the late night party. Hermione and Ron crept up to the Boy's Dormitory and swung the door open.

"He's not in his bed!" Hermione hissed, her face contorting into a worried look, "It doesn't even look like he's slept at all last night!"

Ron eyed Harry's bedside drawer and opened it. His face froze.

"H-Hermione," he said softly, "His stuff is gone!"

Hermione felt her stomach cramp together. "W-What?" she asked, her voice shaking and rising a bit, "There's nothing…nothing at all?"

Ron leaned down. "There's a note." He lifted it up and his eyes skimmed over it. His face turned a nasty shade of green.

"What?" Hermione asked, her hand shaking, "W-What is it Ron?"

Ron finally tore his eyes away from the letter to look at Hermione. His face eyes were panicked and he ran a hand through his messy hair before speaking.

"H-Harry's gone."

**Filler, filler, filler. Sorry, this chapter must've been boring. But trust me; the plot will start to develop by the next one. But in the meantime—Reviews?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Once again, I apologize for the first chapter. It wasn't too interesting, but I hope things get better from there on.**

**And to Harry's Girl—this story actually _is_** **a fanfic based off of Kal Ho Na Ho. Just basically because it's my favorite movie of all time. :**

**Chapter 2-**

_::10 Years Later::_

"What do you mean there was no order! Of course there was an order—I placed it myself!" Hermione shouted into her phone. She paused to listen to the response of the speaker on the other end, and then in one angry motion slammed the phone down onto the table.

"Well, that went well," Hermione looked up to see Ron, a pen resting between his teeth staring at her with an amused expression.

Hermione grunted in response and plopped down onto the table. "These American Muggles," she growled, snatching Ron's paper from under him and eyeing it, "What's this Ron? You haven't written anything!"

"I hate this," Ron growled, "I thought seven years of Hogwarts would be enough. Turns out in 'America'—"he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers—"you have to go through your education _all over again_." He sighed and frowned. "I wish we were still in London…I wouldn't have to be writing a term paper."

"Or arguing with brainless gits over a phone," Hermione added.

"Or using a—"Ron paused and looked at the device in his hand, "A pen, right?"

"Right," Hermione sighed and shuffled through the papers in front of her, "I know I ordered those candlesticks. I should have the papers in here somewhere…"

The room lapsed back into silence as Ron scratched a few marks on his paper and Hermione dug through her papers trying to find her order forms.

Right after their graduation Ron and Hermione had moved to New York, with Hermione's mum to try to start over again. They ran a little bakery in a small corner of New York.

Ever since the fateful day when Harry went missing, Hermione and Ron hadn't mentioned him. In fact, they'd almost completely gotten rid of everything that reminded them of him. No magic, no Hogwarts, and definitely no talk of Quidditch—much to Ron's obvious dismay. The only thing they had in memory of him was a small photo of the three of them, in sixth year, which rested on Hermione's nightstand—untouched and dusty.

And that was it.

- - - - - - -

"You said two-thirty," Hermione said, eyeing her watch, "It's three. I have to be in class in an hour!"

"I know!" her friend, Becca squealed, "Sis should be here by now! The flight's delayed."

Becca was one of the few friends that Ron and Hermione had made in New York. She was more their friend because she was the only person they knew that would let their constant little "outbursts" slip without too much notice.

"Stupid Muggle planes," Hermione growled under her breath.

"Stupid what?" Becca asked, looking confused. She, obviously, was a Muggle.

"Stupid planes," Ron said quickly, shooting Hermione a warning look, "Hermione hates planes."

Hermione responded by eyeing her watch again and clucking her tongue. Becca glared at her.

"You know, it's not _my_ fault that Sis' plane is late," she said, "And you offered to give me a ride!"

"Ignore her Becca," Ron said, "Hermione's paranoid."

Hermione glared at him. "_You_ have a class in an hour too, you know."

A voice then came over the intercom, cutting of Ron's reply. "_Flight 3201 from San Francisco, California has just arrived at Gate 3B."_

"That's her plane!" Becca squealed, jumping up and eyeing as passengers spilled out of the gates. "Ohh!" Becca yelled, even louder, "There she is! That's her! Mia!"

She ran off towards the gate, pushing her way through the crowds. Ron, with a raised eyebrow, looked at Hermione.

"Do you see her?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's sisterly bonding. We wouldn't understand it."

"What are you talking about?" Ron goggled at her, "Incase you've forgotten I have 6 other siblings. I never have my 'brother' moments."

"There's a difference between sisterly bonding and brotherly bonding," Hermione explained, "Girls have their own ways of doing—"

She was cut off as a passenger bumped into her shoulder, spinning her around.

"Oh!" the man said, catching her shoulder and steadying her, "I'm so—"

His face paled as he noticed Hermione. He tanned skin and dark black hair which he anxiously pressed over his face as he eyed Hermione.

His hand immediately left her shoulder, but Hermione couldn't help stare at him. There was something familiar about this man, something…unique. Somehow he reminded her of…

No. No, he couldn't. He…he wasn't—

"It's okay," Hermione stuttered, looking back into the man's deep blue eyes.

Wait—blue eyes?

"It's okay mate," Ron said, coming and standing next to them, "Hermione's so jittery, it's probably her own fault."

The man's face turned even whiter. "I-"he looked back at Hermione and gulped, "I'm sorry."

He turned and then strode away quickly into the crowd. She knew she shouldn't, but Hermione couldn't help but stare at him as he walked quickly. And the minute she blinked her eyes, he was gone. It was as if he had…

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, "Did that man just Apparate?"

Ron stared at her. "I think you've been away from the magical world far too—"he stopped short as Becca, her arms looped around an older girl's, walked back to them. "Oh, hi Mia. How was San Francisco?"

Hermione tried to listen to what Mia was saying, but all she could think about was the man. Her eyes scanned over the airport while they walked out, hoping for a glimpse of him, but she could see nothing.

"It's nothing," she thought to herself, "Maybe I _am_ paranoid, like Ron said. That man was just an average man. An average man."

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, she couldn't believe it.

**Okay. Still dull—but if it doesn't get better by the next chapter, you have all license to kill me. And it'll get longer too. Or at least, I hope.**

**The little tiny box marked 'Review' is dying to be pressed. So please—do it. :**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, to Tigger101, it's not very much like Kal Ho Na Ho, but the main plot is the same. I'm trying to change some of the things around it so I'm not too dependent on the movie, but still, I don't want to get sued by claiming the idea as my own. :**

**And for the length—sorry, but it seems so much longer on Word, and then when I post it its like super short. But thanks for the reviews everyone!**

**And whoever read all this is officially my new best friend.**

**Chapter Three-**

"I honestly don't see why people aren't coming!" Hermione said sourly, as she eyed the restraunt she was standing in. "I mean…it's a cute place, right?"

"Yeah," Ron said absentmindedly from beside her.

"Of course, nothing compared to the Three Broomsticks or any wizard place," Hermione continued, "But it's still cute!"

"Of course," Ron agreed.

"Then why isn't anyone coming?" Hermione asked shrilly, glaring at Ron as if it was somehow his fault.

"I dunno," Ron said sheepishly, forcing his hands into his pockets, "Maybe…"

Just then the door to the small shop burst in and in ran Becca, a thick envelope in her hand which she waved.

"Guess what!" she squealed, plopping into a chair and shoving the envelope into Hermione's hands, "Guess what!"

"What?" Ron, who looked quite relieved to have been interrupted, asked.

"Open it!" Becca squealed, her voice now rising to an annoyingly high pitch. Hermione sent Ron a look and then tore the envelope open. She reached in and pulled out a piece of paper and a photo.

"Who's this?" Hermione asked, handing the photo over to Ron so he could get a better look at it.

"It's my blind date!" Becca squealed, "Remember…I applied to the _Blind Date Foundation_ last month? This is my match!"

"How is it a blind date if you have his photo?" Hermione asked slowly.

Becca sighed and shot Hermione a look. "Well I _asked_ for a photo. I mean—I can't be going out with an ugly guy!"

"Think of the horror!" Ron exclaimed, eyeing Hermione.

"So," Becca asked, "How does he look?"

Ron furrowed his brow. "A spineless, nosy, one-eye browed, git."

Becca's mouth dropped open. "No he does not!"

"Yeah," Ron said, taking the picture and pointing, "He really does have that one eyebrow, see?"

Becca glared at Ron. "Shut up."

Hermione had to restrain a giggle. Never in her life would she have ever imagined that she would meet someone who argued with Ron more than her.

"How'd you get him though?" Hermione asked, eyeing Becca. She didn't want to be rude, but Becca's figure wasn't exactly what she'd call petite—or even chubby for that matter.

"How'd I get him?" Becca looked confused.

"I mean, what did you write on the form about yourself?" Hermione clarified.

"Oh," Becca blushed, "Well…I wrote that from far I could be mistaken for Julia Roberts—"

"And up close mistaken for Julia Roberts' house," Ron finished.

Becca shot him a long glare. "_Shut up_."

Hermione couldn't help it—she laughed. Becca's mad look vanished and she eyed Hermione with a small smile now forming.

"Actually," Becca said, shuffling her feet, "That wasn't the _only_ reason I came here." She smiled sweetly at Hermione.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Becca said, sitting up straight and clasping her hands together, "I wanted to know if we could have our date in your restraunt—on Saturday night, at eight."

"We close at seven," Hermione said promptly.

"I know," Becca said, "But I thought it would be cool if we had an entire restraunt to ourselves! It's pretty romantic, isn't it?" she grinned.

Hermione stared at her.

"Oh c'mon Hermione, _please_!" Becca pleaded, "I want to make a good impression on him!"

Hermione sighed and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Fine."

- - - - - - - - - - -

"I _hate _this," Ron said, for about the third time that day, his eyes rising from the book he was staring at to meet Hermione's with an annoyed expression, "Please, can we go now?"

"Ron," Hermione said slowly, "We've only been here for ten minutes."

Ron slammed his book down on the table and gave Hermione a long look. "This library is horrible," he said motioning around, "I mean, it's so…dull!"

He eyed the table and moved a finger across it and lifted it up. "Look!" he exclaimed, "No dust!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "You're supposed to be studying."

Ron shoved the book across the table so it settled in front of Hermione. "What the heck is this stuff?" he exclaimed, "It's 'scientifically impossible for someone to be invisible'?" He shot the people sitting at the next table a long glare, "Muggles are idiots."

"My Mum's a muggle," Hermione said.

"Then ask her to shove some sense into these idiots brains," Ron said, taking the book back from Hermione. As he reached across the table Hermione noticed something sticking out of the sleeve of Ron's shirt.

"What's this?" she asked, taking his arm, and pulling the thing out.

"Oh," Ron said, trying to pull his hand away, "Er, it's…"

Hermione pulled out a long wand. Her jaw dropped open.

"Ron!" she exclaimed. She eyed the people around her and dropped her voice, "You're carrying around a _wand_?"

"Well…you…you still Apparate!" Ron exclaimed, "Don't lie, I've seen you do it!"

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "Well, I've seen you talking to your mum through the fireplace!"

"I've seen you reading _Hogwarts: A History_!"

"I've seen you using _Accio_ when you're too lazy to get something!"

"I've seen you—"

Ron was cut off as a soccer ball came and hit the window next to which they were sitting. Both of them watched in silence as a boy came and grabbed the ball and ran away.

"I don't see why people find kicking around a ball so entertaining," Ron said quietly, "Quidditch is much better."

Hermione sighed. "I think I agree."

Ron gave her a long look. "Hermione," he said slowly, "Maybe it's time that we—"

"No," Hermione cut him off, "No. We don't need to return. We—We can live without magic."

Ron raised an eyebrow and motioned towards the wand on the table. "Honestly, I don't think we can."

Hermione sighed and grunted, letting her head fall onto the table. There was silence for a minute. Then she spoke in a voice so silent that Ron had to strain to hear.

"I'm remembering him."

Ron sighed and shut his eyes. "Me too."

There was a small silence for a while. Neither of the two moved their positions.

"Well," Ron said, in a small voice, "We don't need to return. We can still use magic in New York…can't we?"

Hermione looked up. "I—I guess."

"We just can't let anyone see," Ron said, sitting up straighter, "And we must be discreet. It won't be too hard." He grinned at Hermione.

Hermione managed a small smile back and looked down at her book. Ron sighed.

"But if you think it's too—"

"No," Hermione cut him off, this time managing a real smile, "I miss magic. And no matter what we do, we'll think of Har—_him_ both ways."

Ron gave her a long look. "You're sure?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Yeah—I'm ready."

- - - - -

Hermione sat at the dining table, _Hogwarts: A History_ propped up on the table. Her mother sat across from her, kneading dough with her hands, talking to Hermione, who in turn pretended to be listening.

"So," her mother said slowly, "How's school?"

"It's good."

"And Ron? How's he?"

"He's good, too"

"Oh. Well, that's good."

"Yeah."

Hermione heard her mother let out a small sigh and give her a wistful glance, but Hermione continued to pretend to read. The relationship between her and her mother had greatly decreased after Hermione had moved to New York. They didn't talk anymore, they didn't laugh—it was as if they were two strangers living in the same house together.

The doorbell rang at that moment and Hermione's mother stood up quickly, muttering that she would get it. Hermione heard her mother walk towards the door, pull it open, and then she heard Ron and Becca's voices echoing through the house. She heard her mother directing them towards the kitchen she was sitting in.

Quickly Hermione snapped shut her book and placed in the chair next to her, just as Becca and Ron entered.

"Okay," Becca said, entering with two dresses, one held in each hand, "Which one do you like better?"

"I told her the blue one," Ron said, sitting down in the chair next to Hermione, "It matches her eyes."

Becca sent him a long stare. "My eyes are green."

"Yeah, green and blue go together well."

Becca rolled her eyes and made a motion to sit in a chair. Just as she was pulling out the chair Hermione snatched her Hogwarts book and threw it onto the ground.

"What was that?" Becca asked, staring at Hermione.

"What was what?" Hermione asked innocently, "And, oh, I prefer the red dress—sorry Ron."

Ron shrugged, and Hermione could see that under the table he was moving the book away from Becca with his foot.

"Anyways," Becca said, brushing her hair out of her eyes, "I just had to tell you—"

She was cut off by the sounds of a large moving truck outside. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my gosh!" she squealed, "Did someone buy the house across the street from you?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, standing up and walking towards the window, "I didn't even notice…"

Ron and Becca came to stand behind her to look out the window. Sure enough there was a moving truck unloading things. And the "For Sale" sign was now marked with a large, bold "Sold" sign.

Hermione's eyes flickered around the house. It was in good shape, with its dark green shutters and light green bricks. She eyed the large window, which was now open, and what she saw made her jaw drop open.

Someone had just Apparated in.

**I tried making it long. So tell me what you think…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four-**

Hermione let out a small gasp and she looked over at Ron to see if he had noticed. Both of their eyes met at the same time with a similar look of confusion.

"What?" Becca asked staring at them, "Did I miss something?"

"I—I change my mind," Hermione said, looking back out the window towards the front room where the man had Apparated. The window shades were now drawn shut, so she couldn't see anything inside. "I like the blue dress better. Go—get ready."

Becca eyed her. "But I still have a day."

Hermione glared at Becca. "There's no time like the present."

Becca stared at Hermione, then Ron, and then looked back at Hermione.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Hermione sighed. "_No_. But I have to now—Ron and I have a class."

"But it's Saturday!" Becca exclaimed, "You don't have Saturday classes."

"It's an extra-credit course," Hermione said, looking back at the house, "And we'll be late if we don't leave soon."

"Fine," Becca finally agreed, shooting Ron a suspicious look, "But I'll be here early tomorrow—to get ready."

"Okay, great," Hermione said absentmindedly, pulling her hair back. She took Ron's arm and motioned to leave, "See you later, Becca."

"That wasn't too smooth," Ron said, once they were out of hearing distance of Becca. He held open the door and let Hermione walk through it, "If she didn't doubt us before, she will for sure now."

Hermione snorted. "It's _Becca_, Ron. I could probably levitate a chair in front of her and she still wouldn't notice."

Ron shrugged. "I'm just saying. Some people really aren't as clueless as they make out to be."

They were quiet the rest of the walk to the house, and they walked up towards the front door. It was open, due to the movers moving furniture in and out and they walked in without invitation. They climbed up the stairs, and up to the room in which they had seen the man and Ron sent Hermione a long look before raising his fist and knocking at the door.

"Hold on!" a familiar British voice called out.

Hermione froze. Where had she heard that voice?

The door swung open and Hermione and Ron were face-to-face with the man that had bumped into Hermione at the airport. His face wasn't as pale as it was the first time they had met, but it did significantly reduce in color when he saw them.

"Er, hello?" he asked, eyeing Ron.

"Hi," Ron said, extending a hand, "I'm Ronald Weasley. And this is Hermione Granger."

The man took his hand and shook it. "I'm…James. James Edwards." He avoided their eyes. "How—how did you get in?"

"The door was open," Ron said brightly.

"Oh," James said slowly, "So…that's why…you came?"

"I live across the street," Hermione said briskly, "And we saw you Apparate in."

James finally tore his eyes away from Ron to look at Hermione for the first time. Their eyes met and Hermione felt her stomach do a somersault. Those eyes…they were so familiar…

Either that or she'd been watching too many Muggle romance movies.

James didn't look too surprised at the fact that Hermione was a witch. In fact his face seemed to gain a bit more color.

"Is that so?" he asked, "I didn't know there would be any other magical folk in this neighborhood."

"That still doesn't mean you should Apparate!" Hermione said, her voice rising shrilly. Both James and Ron sent her bewildered glances. "We had a Muggle friend in there too! What if she had seen you Apparate?"

"I—I'm…sorry?" James said after a minute.

Hermione sighed and bit her lip. For some reason, she felt quite angry at this man—though she didn't know why. "You ought to be a bit more careful, honestly. Some people _aren't_ as clueless as the make out to be!"

Ron glared at her. "Don't steal my line of glory! And I wouldn't be talking." He turned to look at James, "You should _see_ how horribly obvious Hermione is. It's a good thing we don't hang out with too many Muggles…"

James smiled at Ron, but his eyes stayed focused on Hermione.

"So," Ron said, "What school did you go to?"

"S-School?" James repeated, looking back at Ron.

"Yes," Ron repeated, "What magical school?"

"Oh," James said, "Er, I went to, Durmstrang."

"Hermione and I went to Hogwarts," Ron said. "Too bad we didn't see you our last year though—were you one of the Durmstrang students that came to our graduation ball."

Hermione felt her face go cold. The graduation ball.

Harry's ball.

James seemed to be uncomfortable. "Er, no, I didn't. I graduated Durmstrang a year before."

"Oh."

There was a brief silence.

"So," James asked slowly, "You two…married?"

Ron burst out laughing. Hermione felt a flush run up her cheeks.

"Married? Me? _Hermione_?" Ron fell into another peal of giggles. James looked bewildered, but slightly relieved at the same time. He sent Hermione another look which Hermione carefully avoided.

"Would you two like to come in," James asked, once Ron's laughter had died down. "I mean, it's still messy since I've just moved in and all…but I could summon a ch—"

"_No magic_," Hermione hissed.

James sighed. "I could _pull up_ a chair."

Hermione eyed him. "That's fine," she said in a cold tone, "Ron and I only came over to tell you that. We have to go now."

"To where?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione. She glared at him.

"We have to go to our extra credit class," Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"Extra credit class?" James asked from the doorway, sounding confused, "For what?"

"That's none of your business," Hermione said, turning back to look at him, "And now we'll—"

"Well," Ron said, cutting off Hermione, "Actually when we moved here, we learned that as Muggles we couldn't get a job unless we were properly educated. So Hermione _forced _us to go to this adult college thing." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's quite dull."

"Well," Hermione said, in a mock light tone, "Now that you've revealed our whole life story, do you mind coming?"

"So," James said in a casual tone, eyeing Ron "Is she _always_ like this when she meets new people, or did I just catch you on a bad day?"

"Hermione's paranoid," Ron said back. Hermione sent him a death glare.

"_Fine_," she said, "Then I'll go!"

She made a motion to begin Apparating but before she could 'pop' away James caught her arm. She felt familiar tingles rush down, but then pushed his arm off, and glared at him.

"No magic," James said, grinning at her.

She let out a loud grunt and then turned on her heel and stormed all the way down the hall.

- - - - -

"And _then_," Hermione said, her spoonful of mint ice cream stopping halfway through her mouth, "He mocked me again!"

Becca eyed her for a minute and then dug out a spoon of ice cream from the carton in front of them. "So tell me—why did you go without me?"

Hermione grunted. "Becca, is _that_ important? You're lucky you missed meeting this guy—he's a jerk!"

"Actually," Ron's voice came from the foyer, "He's not." He walked into the kitchen and plopped down next to Becca. "He's sweet, funny, entertaining, smart—"

"Ron's in _love_," Becca said, handing Ron a spoon and grinning at him.

Ron stuck his tongue out at her. "_And_ I've called him for dinner at your restaurant."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, dropping her spoon, "You _what_?"

"Well," Ron said sweetly, "It's the neighborly thing to do."

Hermione glared at him. "You—are—not—his—neighbor."

Ron shrugged. "Well it's tomorrow night at eight."

"Y-You can't!" Hermione said, thinking quickly, "Mum…Mum won't let you!"

"I've already asked her."

"But tomorrow night…at eight…that's Becca's date!"

"It's okay," Becca said, "I don't mind. I'd actually like to meet this guy."

Ron grinned at Hermione with a triumphant look, as if prodding her to go on.

"Fine," Hermione grumbled at last, "Fine. But I won't be happy."

And when the next night rolled around, she definitely wasn't.

**Um, review? Please?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, I'm not getting as many reviews as I want, and I'm not trying to sound like an obsessed freak, but if you guys have any, _any_ criticism at all, please tell me. I want to be able to make my writing better. :**

**Chapter Five-**

Hermione sighed wiped away the constant tears rolling down her cheeks, trying hard to clear her mind of all thoughts—especially thoughts connected with the events which had gone on in the last four hours.

The dinner had gone worse than she had imagined. Not that Hermione had high hopes for the dinner anyways, but never, would she have imagined matters to go this far. Never.

- - - - - -

"I don't think I like this!" Becca said nervously, eyeing herself in the mirror, "Curls don't look good on me! Maybe we should straighten my hair."

Hermione sighed. "Becca, we've straightened, then curled, then straightened, then curled you hair _again_. Honestly, you'll have lost all your hair by thirty-two."

"Yeah," Becca said, twiddling her thumbs and still staring at herself in the mirror, "But…"

"You look fine," Hermione said, "You look _good_. Mr.-Blind-Date will be knocked off his feet." She sent Becca an encouraging smile.

"But…But 'Mione," Becca said, "What am I supposed to say to him? I've—I've got nothing! And I don't work well under pressure; I won't be able to make up anything on the spot!"

"You're asking _me_," Hermione said, shooting Becca a thin smile. Becca whined.

"You have _nothing_?" she asked, "No advice?"

"How would I know?"

"Haven't you ever had a boyfriend?" Becca said, applying a maroon colored lipstick to her bottom lip.

Hermione paused for a second. "No," she lied, "No—I haven't."

Ron came barricading into the restaurant just then, his face flushed with a triumphant grin. He handed Becca a bouquet of flowers.

"Are these good?" he asked, "There was only _one_ florist in all of New York City that had these."

Becca scrunched her nose. "I said I wanted white. These red ones clash with my dress."

Ron sent her a death glare. "B-But these are good too!" Becca said quickly, dropping them on the table. She eyed Ron. "Are you wearing _that_ to dinner?"

Ron eyed his casual jeans and top and then eyed them both slowly. "Er, Hermione," he said slowly, "Can I talk to you."

And he took her arm and dragged to her to a corner of the restaurant.

"Wait," Hermione said, before Ron could begin talking, "I have to ask you something first. About James."

"What?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Okay, er, I didn't want to bring this up, but…does James remind you of _someone_?"

Ron's jaw dropped open. "You see it too?"

"Yeah!" Hermione exclaimed, "Do you think he could be…"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, I mean—he doesn't have brown eyes."

"Yeah, and—wait," Hermione paused, "_Brown_ eyes?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "He reminds you of Neville…right?"

Hermione stared at him. "Er, yeah, right," she lied, "Neville." She paused and brushed away a strand of hair from her eyes. "What did you have to say?

"Well…you remember Louis, right?" he asked, "From our morning classes?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah—the blondie?"

"Yeah," Ron said, flashing another smile, "Well she's just asked me to the movies!"

"Er, that's great Ron," Hermione said slowly, "Have you ever…_been_ to the movies?"

Ron paused. "Well, no. But there's always a first time, right?"

"I suppose," Hermione said slowly, "But can we talk about this later? It's almost eight and—"

"Well," Ron said, shuffling his feet, "That's actually what I came to say. I, er—the date's tonight. Right now."

"Right now?" Hermione repeated, staring at him.

"Er, yeah, Louis is actually waiting outside." Ron eyed his feet.

"What? _No_, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "This whole dinner was your idea! And you're leaving me alone!"

"You have Becca!" Ron exclaimed.

"Becca!" Hermione scoffed, "Please Ron."

Ron shot her an apologizing look. "Sorry—but I have to. I'll see you later though, right?"

Hermione glared at him. "If I'm alive."

Ron grinned and patted her. "That's the spirit."

He dashed out of the resteraunt then, almost bumping into a man who, by the looks of it, seemed to be Becca's date. He noticed Hermione staring at him and flashed her a broad smile and strode over to her.

"Hello Becca," he said in a thick English accent, "I'm Josh."

"Oh," Hermione said quickly, "I'm not Becca—"

"I am," Becca said, coming to stand next to Hermione, a wide smile on her face.

Josh's smile faltered a little as he eyed Becca's figure, but he quickly redeemed himself by taking her hand and kissing it. Becca, blushing, lead him towards the table.

"Oh. I thought this was a private dinner."

Hermione spun around to be staring face to face with James. His hair was pressed down and he was wearing a fresh suit. He shot Hermione a grin which in return she sent him a scowl.

"No," Hermione said slowly, "Ron just doesn't know when to invite guests."

"Where _is_ Ron," James said, eyeing the tables, "I don't see him."

"He's not coming," Hermione said briskly. She pointed to a seat, "That's yours."

They both sat at the table. The chatter slowly rose as Hermione's mother engaged James in a conversation while Becca talked to Josh about her summer jobs. Hermione was quiet and focused on her pasta—which was thankfully, her favorite food.

"So," James asked casually, eyeing Hermione, "How's your boyfriend?"

"I don't have one," Hermione said just as casually, taking another bite of her pasta.

"Oh," James said, "Well Ron said you used to have one, so I just—"

"Hermione?" Becca asked sounding confused, "Hermione's never had a boyfriend."

"Yes, yes she has," her mother said, taking a sip of lemonade, "Hermione had a boyfriend when she was around seventeen."

Hermione felt her heart plummet. Becca's jaw dropped and she sent Hermione an astonished stare.

"You told me you'd never had one!" Becca exclaimed, "You lied!"

Hermione felt the heat rising to her cheeks, and eyed James who was looking toying with his fork with a newfound interest.

"I—I did," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders, "But it wasn't…it wasn't serious."

God, she wished Ron were here.

Her mother snorted. "Are you joking?" she asked, "Of course it was serious! Hermione was devastated for at least a year after! She wouldn't talk, eat, smile—it was as if she was in love with him!"

Hermione felt everyone's penetrating stares on her neck and she bit her lip down hard. She hated this. Why, _why_ was she so constantly reminded of Harry—in a world so far away from him?

She looked around at the people at the table, waiting for a response back from her. The only one who wasn't looking at her with a curious look was James, who surprisingly, looked shocked. His eyes were open wide and his lips pressed together, and his face had gone the same color as the first day they had met.

"I…I wasn't in love," Hermione said in a small voice, eyeing her pasta, which now didn't seem so delicious. "It was…a crush. And my first…my first breakup. That was—that was all."

God, god no. Not tears. But true enough, Hermione felt them prickling around the edges of her eyes.

"Oh!" Becca exclaimed, "Is that the guy whose photo you have in your room? The one with the weird scar?"

James was now pressing flat on his hair against his forehead. Hermione felt her heart stop. It was so similar, so clear, it shouted out Har—

No. No. James had blue eyes. _Blue eyes_.

"Yeah," Hermione's mother said, "She went to school with him. They were best friends for seven years."

"So Josh," Hermione said suddenly, still eyeing her plate and praying that her tears wouldn't spill out of the edges, "How do you like—"

"Aww!" Becca exclaimed, "That's so cute! Why'd they break up?"

She heard James let out a tentative cough. But Hermione couldn't move—it was as if she was paralyzed. She had a brief memory of the time in second year when she had gotten paralyzed…somehow this felt much, _much_ worse.

Hermione's mother shrugged.

"What was his name?" Becca asked, the question directed to Hermione's mother.

She took another sip of lemonade. "Harry. Harry Potter."

And that was all it took.

Suddenly the tears were spilling out and Hermione stood up, banging her fist against the table.

"Well thank you!" she exclaimed, "It was honestly great, just _fabulous_ to spread my private life all around. So if we're done with 'share-hour' then can I please go?"

Hermione eyed James, who seemed to be staring at her with a stricken expression, and his eyes seemed to be glazed over. She sent him a small smile. "I hope you've enjoyed tonight's dinner. Gives you a great overlook on how life in _our_ neighborhood is. Hope to see you around." She spat the last few words.

There was a stunned silence at the table.

"Hermione, dear," her mother said softly, "I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah?" she asked, grabbing her coat, "Well you did."

And she turned and stormed out of the room and out the door, walking as fast as her feet could take her. Once she was outside, and the cold New York air hit her fast she broke off in a fast pace. The tears were now streaming down her face and she was running around corners and running and then finally she dropped down onto a small patch of grass and rested her head in her hands.

She didn't just cry—she sobbed. The kind of hyperventilating-sobs in which her whole chest began to hurt and she had to gasp for air as the tears rolled down. She received a few stares from on looking pedestrians but she ignored them as she buried her face in her gloves.

She didn't know how long she cried, and she didn't care. She wished Ron were here, her father were here, anyone were hear to comfort her.

She wished Harry was here.

And that sent out a fresh peal of tears.

She felt someone come and sit down on the grass next to her and she pulled her face out of her hands to see who it was. It was James.

"If—if you've c-come to ask more questions," Hermione said, in a nasal voice, "Now's really not the time." She sniffed and wiped away another tear.

"I haven't come to ask questions," James said softly, "I've come to apologize."

Hermione stared at him. James shifted, nearer to her.

"I—I shouldn't have brought that whole thing up," he said, "I didn't know it would lead to…to…"

"That?" Hermione finished. James smiled.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm sorry."

Hermione shrugged. "It's…it's not your fault. It's, it's not anyone's."

"Not even Harry's?" James asked softly.

Hermione swallowed and eyed her thumbs. "No," she whispered, "Not even Harry's."

She looked up to see James staring at her.

"I know you said not to ask questions now," he said, in an equally soft voice, "But I have to ask one. What—what _happened_ between you two?"

Hermione sighed. After a long moment she said, "Guess he just got tired of me."

There was another long silence. A nearby streetlight flickered violently and the night slowly got quieter as the number of cars passing by on the streets reduced.

Hermione finally eyed James to see him staring off into the night sky, and odd look across his face. She couldn't tell if it was boredom, amusement, or sorrow—but whatever it was, she was oddly glad that he was here.

"We should probably go," she said softly, standing up, "It's getting late."

James stood up with her, and grabbed his coat from the grass. He eyed Hermione as he stood up.

"You have a huge grass stain on your dress," he informed her, in a much lighter tone. Hermione eyed back and true enough she saw a large green-brown circle.

James grinned. "How're you going to get that out?"

Hermione grinned back, with an equally mischievous grin. "Magic, of course."

The slowly began walking back home. James offered a few times to Apparate back, but Hermione declined, claiming that it felt better to be walking.

"You're insane," James declared, "It's probably thirty degrees out here."

"I never said you couldn't go," Hermione said.

"I think I will," James said.

But he didn't.

"Listen," Hermione said, after a few more minutes of silence, "Er, thank you…for tonight. And I suppose _I'm _the one who should be saying sorry—for being so rude."

James grinned. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you."

"Well," Hermione fidgeted, "I'm just a bit…distracted these days. And you caught me on a bad day."

"Like I said, it's—"he was cut off as a car drove through a large muddle of slosh snow, which sprayed all over him.

Hermione burst out in giggles. James stood, a frown on his face, as he wiped the wet water out of his face.

"Y-You're su-suit!" she gasped between giggles, "It's ruined! H-have fun getting out the s-stain! It'll be horrible!"

James grinned. "I'll use _magic_, of course."

**R—E—V—I—E—W**


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